


First Glance, First Kiss

by DualWielding



Series: Firsts and Seconds [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Klutz!Blaine, Lifeguard!Kurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWielding/pseuds/DualWielding
Summary: A flash of color drew his eye toward the opposite side of the pool, to the lifeguard's chair and, more importantly, the lifeguard in his figure-hugging, bright purple, sleeveless swim shirt. Fluffy AU. Set between Junior and Senior year of HS. AU in that Kurt/Blaine haven't met and Blaine isn't oblivious when they do.





	First Glance, First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [FFnet](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7261561/1/First-Glance-First-Kiss), Aug 7, 2011, before Blaine was mysteriously de-aged.

* * *

"This is where little kids hang out," Blaine felt compelled to mention.

"That's ridiculous," said David as they left the locker room of the rec center. "I've been coming here for years."

"Exactly," Blaine sighed. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. We could have gone to Six Flags, where there are rides. And people. People our age. Potentially attractive people our age, David."

"Waiting an hour in line for a two-minute ride blows. I want to swim. Quit your whining and last one in's a rotten egg!"

"What are you, six?" Blaine muttered, dragging his feet to the public pool and slipping on a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses, while David made a beeline for the water. He walked toward a couple of empty lounge chairs, towel and book in hand. If he got in some reading, the day wouldn't be a total loss.

He spread out his Lion King beach towel and kicked off his sandals, glancing around with a grimace at the excitedly shrieking kids and doting mothers. Then a flash of color drew his eye toward the opposite side of the pool, to the lifeguard's chair and, more importantly, the lifeguard, in his figure-hugging, bright purple, sleeveless swim shirt. Blaine's book slipped from his hand. "Ouch!" he yelped, hopping on one foot after the corner of the spine jabbed him hard in the toe. He flopped gracelessly onto his chair, holding the injured appendage, and glanced at the lifeguard, who was looking away with an amused face.

Blaine stretched out, playing it cool. There wasn't much else he could do under the circumstances, besides maybe crying to his mommy like that screamer over at the shallow end. He opened his book, holding it in front of him and peeking over the top at the lifeguard, who began to slather on a generous layer of sunscreen while still keeping a close eye on the kids. He looked like he'd done it so often that he could apply the lotion in his sleep, which was probably true. How else could a lifeguard at an outdoor pool manage to have such perfect, milky-white skin, even with that big umbrella over his chair? He rubbed the sunscreen briskly into his arms and legs and the tops of his feet, producing a different bottle for the rest of his skin. Deft fingers blotted and massaged in little circles, delving down slightly past the collar of his shirt, until the cream was absorbed into his face and neck.

"Hey!" Blaine cried, startled from his innocent observation by a splatter of cold water hitting his overly warm skin. David was apparently doing his imitation of a puppy. He vigorously shook his limbs free of water, aiming as much as possible at Blaine.

"You don't waste any time, do you," David snickered.

"Huh– what?" Blaine mumbled, staring over the top of his book again.

"Close your mouth, Blaine. You're drooling."

"Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea," said Blaine. "Swimming is great exercise and... lets me work on my tan and..."

"And the lifeguard is hot," David finished for him.

"Is he? I hadn't noticed." Blaine pretended to read.

"Uh-huh. Why don't you jump in the nice cool water before you embarrass yourself further."

"Jump. Right," Blaine murmured, eyes once again devouring a certain purple-wearing lollipop- Life Saver- lifeguard!

"Not him. Jump in the pool. Water. The big blue wet thing, as Fozzie would say." David dragged him to his feet. "Better start you off in the shallow end, in case you forget you can't breathe underwater."

* * *

"What is taking so long?" Blaine shouted from the locker room doorway, where he danced impatiently from foot to foot. "Hurry up, or I'm going without you!"

"Hold your Clydesdales, loverboy," David grumbled. "And stop doing the pee pee dance, or they won't let you in the water. Yesterday you didn't want to be here. Today you drag me to the pool before lunch. It's barely even hot out yet."

"It's hot alright," Blaine answered under his breath.

The second his friend appeared, Blaine shooed him out the door ahead of him, not really listening to David's muttered expletives about Wes having landed that internship at a law office instead of working nights at the movie theater like normal teenagers, leaving him stuck with no one but Casanova for company all day. No. Blaine's gaze went straight to the empty lifeguard chair. _Where is he?_ He looked around frantically. _I should have tried to find out his work schedule. What if it's his day off? What if he met someone else? What if I never see him again!_

Then Blaine spotted a fire engine red tank-top amid a small cluster of children. He was helping a little girl with her arm floaties, and Blaine stopped to stare almost, but not quite, soon enough to avoid bumping into his friend's backside. David had been bending down to sit on the side of the pool when Blaine walked into him, pitching him head first into the deep end with a surprised screech. The lifeguard took a few hurried steps toward them, watching David haul himself out of the water with an accusing glare at Blaine. The lifeguard turned a stern eye on him, too, and called out a warning. "No shoving!"

* * *

Blaine checked discreetly to make sure his chosen audience was at least in his seat, if not watching. He was there, sporting blinding tangerine today. Blaine had brought tanning oil this time, and worn slightly shorter trunks. He made a little show – while attempting to look utterly casual – of taking off his t-shirt. He worked out enough to be well defined, not enough to look like he did nothing else. Might as well make the most of it. He sat and slowly oiled his skin.

Next to him, David rolled his eyes. "Obvious much?"

"What? I need to work on my tan."

"Certainly. Anyone can see how pale you are. You look positively unhealthy."

Blaine was regretting the oil idea later, when it felt like he was basting in a giant oven, smeared with butter to get that perfect crisp to his skin. Hoping to cool himself from the inside, he picked up his water bottle. He might have to forego the oiled hunk look in favor of a good dunking. Maybe the athletic swimmer type, or the glistening-with-water-drops look would work for him?

As he sipped the cold water, Blaine's eyes, as usual, strayed to the tall chair directly across from him. But suddenly, the lifeguard jumped down, tossed aside his sunglasses while taking two running steps, and did a perfect dive into the pool, speeding through the water toward him. Blaine gaped, and the wide-mouth water bottle dumped its contents onto his face. He was still spluttering when the lifeguard came surging to the surface with a frightened child in his arms.

The lifeguard swam expertly to the side of the pool to be met by a wailing mother, who pulled the crying boy into her arms and paused in the hugging and scolding of her child only long enough to heap loud gratitude onto the lifeguard. He climbed out and stood dripping in his clingy shirt and trunks a few feet from Blaine's chair, submitting to a crushing one-armed hug from the woman. He had an adorable, proud, and slightly shocked look on his face, which changed to confusion and awkward discomfort when he saw Blaine.

After the lifeguard had extricated himself from the lady, cooed to the little boy, and walked them toward the gate with directions to the nurse's office, David punched Blaine in the arm.

"Ow! What the–" Blaine cried, wincing.

"Look at yourself, Blaine. You're sitting there holding a bottle to your face that you clearly just emptied on yourself and staring at him like some kind of crazed stalker. You're suddenly a regular fixture here and you haven't even been in the pool today. Can you say creepy?"

* * *

It was his fault. Blaine never would have tripped if the lifeguard hadn't laughed. He'd been minding his own business, strolling casually toward his preferred seating area. Definitely not glancing over his shoulder at the lifeguard, who was once again out of his chair, this time helping a little boy blow up a mini beach ball. The kid must have said something funny, because clear, musical laughter burst from the lifeguard's mouth and Blaine went sprawling over a low chair and onto the concrete.

He was still on his back, hoping nobody'd seen that, when the lifeguard appeared above him seconds later, having rushed over like some kind of guardian angel, his chestnut hair shining ethereally in the sunlight.

"Are you okay?" The soft voice held genuine concern.

"Uhh– I– You... Heh."

The angel turned to David, who wisely insisted on walking a safe distance behind Blaine these days. "Does he speak English?"

"Oh, yes. Excellent grasp of the language. Often can't shut him up. Maybe he hit his head?" David suggested, concealing his amusement like a pro.

The angel gasped and dropped to his knees beside Blaine, nimble fingers spearing into loose, dark curls. Blaine had discovered to his dismay that his favorite hair gel and the pool's chlorine weren't a great mix. "I'm just going to check for injuries, okay?" said the angel. He leaned close, probing gently around Blaine's scalp. "I don't see any blood," he soothed, then lifted Blaine's head with one hand at the base of his skull and very tenderly examined the back of his head with the other. "No bumps either, but you might have a goose egg soon. Can you talk yet? Can you tell me your name?" He lowered Blaine's head, using his hand as a pillow.

"Angel."

"Angel? Your name is Angel? That's lovely," the angel said. "Can you stand up, Angel?"

Blaine stared into the most extraordinary eyes he'd ever seen, watching them sparkle with the pool's reflection. "Blaine," he murmured.

"What?" The angel looked up at David. "What did he say?"

"He said his name is Blaine," replied David, who was bent over, hands on knees, winking at Blaine when the lifeguard wasn't looking.

"Oh," the angel said, looking confused and slightly disappointed. "Who's Angel then? Is that your name?"

"Err, no. Angel is – uhh – cat! Yeah. Kitten, really. Cute little gray tabby," David improvised.

"I'd better call the nurse." The angel carefully withdrew his hand and stood up, did a quick check to make sure everyone else was safe, because that's what angels do, and turned toward an office phone near the gate.

"No!" Blaine found his voice. "I'm fine. Fine, really. See?" He clambered to his feet, with the lifeguard looking at him uncertainly. "I tripped. No harm done. No head wounds. Wasn't looking where I was going."

"Well..." the lifeguard hesitated. "If you're sure you're okay. But I want you to sit down for a while. No swimming. And tell me immediately if you feel any dizziness or nausea." He looked at David. "Can you keep an eye on him?"

"No problem. Maybe we should sit closer to you, in case he wants you – needs you – needs anything," David said with a perfectly straight face. Blaine loved David.

"Yes. That's a good idea. Do you need any help?" the lifeguard asked Blaine in his angel's voice.

Blaine glanced over the lifeguard's shoulder, where David stood behind him, pointing straight up with a forefinger, then using it to push his gaping maw closed. Blaine snapped his mouth shut and his eyes back to the other boy. "No. No, I'm good, thank you. And thanks for your help. You were right there as soon as I fell. I mean I just tripped and I wasn't injured, but there you were, standing over me like some kind of – of – –. And we saw you save that kid yesterday, too! That was pretty awesome. Heroic, really! Kid's lucky you were here. I didn't even see him fall in. You're a good lifeguard," he babbled, while David slapped himself on the forehead. "I'm Blaine, by the way, and this is David." He held out a hand. "We weren't really properly introduced."

"Kurt," Kurt replied, trying not to gawk at the jumble of words just thrown at him by the fast-talking, fantastically good-looking, slightly clumsy and somewhat sunburned guy with the incredibly soft, curly hair. He took the offered hand in a firm handshake before gesturing for Blaine to precede him.

"So, David," Kurt glanced at the taller boy, then turned his eyes back to the kids in the water as they made their way around the pool. "I think I've seen you here before. Maybe last summer?"

"Yeah, you might have. Were you a lifeguard then?" David asked, trying to recall if he'd seen Kurt.

"No. This is my first time working here. I used to take a lot of classes. Swimming lessons every year, CPR, cooking, Pilates, fencing, tai-chi, baton twirling. That last one's harder than it looks. My aunt is a teacher and she works here in the summers, so I'd hang around the rec center when I visited her."

Blaine stopped in his tracks. "You mean you don't live around here?" He turned wide, anxious eyes on Kurt.

"Um. No." Kurt frowned, hoping he hadn't made a bad call by not sending this guy to the nurse. "I live a couple of hours away. I usually spend a few weeks here during summer vacation, but this time I'm here all summer, because my aunt helped me get this job. Listen, I have to get back to work. Remember to tell me if you feel sick at all, okay? And definitely put on some sunscreen. You can use mine if you don't have any." He gave Blaine a worried smile and went back to his seat.

" _Are_ you actually okay?" asked David.

"I'm not sure," Blaine said.

* * *

Kurt was having a good summer in Westerville with his favorite aunt (Aunt Meredith, not Aunt Mildred, who always smelled like rubbing alcohol), and enjoying the job. He got to watch over a bunch of kids, which was cool. Small children tended to be friendly and non-judgmental. He wanted kids of his own someday, and only hoped he'd be as good a father as _his_ dad. He groaned at himself. Why was he thinking about children when he'd never had a boyfriend, or even a kiss? At least, not one that counted.

Kurt's gaze continually roamed the pool, making sure no one was playing too rough and no kids were in any danger, while his mind continued its musings. He'd have a family someday. What would his future husband be like, he wondered? Tall, blonde and ridiculously muscular, like a Viking from one of those romance novels his mom used to read? Thin and scholarly, with thick glasses and season tickets to the symphony? Whatever he was like, Kurt wasn't likely to meet him in Lima. He'd need to move, or at least travel. Where would be a good place to meet Mr. Right?

"Up here!" a voice rang out, drawing Kurt's eyes to Blaine standing on the end of the diving board. He was waving both arms, trying to get David's attention in the water. As Kurt watched, Blaine glanced over at him and lost his balance, flailing uselessly and tumbling sideways off the board. Kurt was on his feet in a flash, ready to dive in, but Blaine surfaced quickly. He saw Kurt at the edge of the pool and gave an embarrassed little wave to indicate he was okay. Kurt rolled his eyes, picked up the sunglasses he'd automatically dropped, and sat down. _Why are the best looking boys always such attention seekers? There aren't even any teenage girls here to impress. Maybe he's like Puck, hunting for cougars._

Kurt put his sunglasses back on, a cheap pair he'd bought just for work, and smoothed down his tight, lime green swim shirt. At least Blaine had taken his advice the previous day and applied sunscreen to his already damaged skin. He'd awkwardly asked Kurt to borrow his lotion, no doubt still embarrassed about tripping over a chair. Kurt smiled. He'd caught the end of that fall and been worried the guy had hurt himself, but in hindsight it was pretty funny. And now he'd fallen off the diving board. Kurt's smile vanished and his gaze tracked down Blaine, treading water near David. He'd have to keep an eye on that one.

* * *

"We should get here earlier tomorrow," Blaine said out of nowhere.

David was lying on the chair next to him, drying himself in the sun. "We've been coming here all week and every day it gets earlier. Tomorrow you're on your own. I've got closing shift again tonight and I plan to sleep all day tomorrow. Do _not_ call me. I will hurt you."

"But, but, you're my wingman!" Blaine complained.

"You don't need a wingman, Blaine, because you never make a move. At all. Are you just going to hang around here hoping he'll have to give you mouth-to-mouth one of these days? Ask him out already."

Blaine frowned. David might be right. Maybe he should just ask Kurt out. What's the worst that could happen? He could say no, but... Blaine's eyes got huge. He could say no! What if he said no? What then? Then he'd be gone and Blaine didn't know where he lived or his phone number or school or favorite color or last name!

"Blaine. Blaine!" David threw a towel at his head.

"What!"

"You were hyperventilating or something. You have seriously got to relax. He's just a guy. Use that famous charm of yours and Go. Get. Him." David shook his head in exasperation.

"He's not just a guy. He's... I don't know. It's hard to explain. I feel like, if I screw this up I'll always regret it." Blaine groaned, looking at Kurt as usual, who was paying him no attention whatsoever, as usual. "Help."

David released a loud, put-upon exhale. "Would you like me to tell his best friend that my best friend likes his best friend and ask if his best friend likes my best friend, too? Or would you rather pass him a note before recess? You could write a poem. Roses are red, violets are blue. You're so pretty, I wanna go down on–"

"David!" Blaine glared at him. "I think you're right. Maybe I'm better off without a wingman."

"Right or wrong, I won't be here. So, good luck," David said. "I'd go with the poem."

* * *

Blaine was in his car early the next day, giving himself a pep-talk. _You can do this. Talk to him. You don't have to ask him out. Just get to know him a little, preferably without falling down. And find out his last name!_

He walked out to the pool as soon as it opened. He was the first one there, except for Kurt of course. Except for Kurt, who floated lazily in the water, wearing only his trunks and a relaxed smile. He glanced at Blaine, then propelled himself slowly toward the other side of the pool. Blaine tried to control his breathing and pasted on a sunny smile. "Hi, Kurt."

"Hi, Blaine. You're here early." He reached the side of the pool and hoisted himself out, arm and back muscles rippling, water running down his creamy skin in rivulets. He squeezed some of the water out of his hair, then picked up a fluffy folded towel to blot his face and turned toward Blaine, who had moved forward until he stood at the very edge of the pool. "Careful," Kurt warned.

"What?" Blaine's gaze was locked on Kurt's body. His wet, shimmery, toned body with the flawless chest. Powder blue trunks hung low on his waist, clinging, outlining the curve of his thighs and the angularity of his hipbones, light and shadow playing over his shape under the wet fabric.

"Blaine!" he heard the voice from far away just before he was completely enveloped by cold water. He looked up and instinctively pushed himself to the surface, coughing and spitting as a strong arm wrapped around him and he was pulled backward. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kurt reach out to grab the side of the pool with the hand that wasn't keeping him above water.

Kurt quickly turned them both, putting Blaine between himself and the wall with his chest to Blaine's back. With one hand holding onto the ledge, he pushed a knee between Blaine's thighs to support his weight. Then Kurt let go of his torso and used his free hand to lift one of Blaine's arms up and over. All this happened so fast that Blaine was still in shock, but he came out of it when Kurt tried to raise his other arm for him. He threw his arm out of the pool and held himself there.

Kurt made sure Blaine was secure, then quickly got out of the water and bent over to grab him under the arms, dragging him out and laying him on his side. "Blaine! Are you okay?" He knelt down and leaned sideways, pushing Blaine's wet hair back repeatedly, off of his forehead, behind his ear, down his nape. He stared into Blaine's eyes, looking frightened.

"Kurt. I'm sorry."

"What happened? Did you faint? Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, I'm not hurt. I must have been daydreaming."

"Daydreaming? Are you kidding me?! How do you not notice a very large swimming pool directly in front of you? I'm getting the nurse."

"No, please," Blaine groaned and rolled onto his back, wiping both hands across his face. "I was only distracted. I swear these kinds of things don't usually happen to me," he said miserably.

"Blaine, you tripped over a chair the other day, you fell off the diving board, and now you've walked into a pool. You should see a doctor before you step in front of a moving bus. Maybe you're having blackouts."

"No blackouts. It's just–"

"What?" Kurt's worried stare bored into him.

"I was distracted," he repeated, his face scrunching up in embarrassment.

Kurt frowned. "Distracted by what? There's nothing-"

Blaine saw comprehension come over him and blushed furiously. "I'm sorry." He quickly sat up, feet dangling in the water.

Kurt sat back on his heels with an expression of surprise and doubt.

Blaine nervously combed his fingers through his wet curls, looking straight ahead at the pool, anywhere but at Kurt. He noticed his book floating on the water and imagined his towel was at the bottom. He could feel the other boy's eyes on him. "I'll stop coming here if you want. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He wrung his hands in his lap.

"I– I... I don't know what to say," Kurt stammered. "Maybe I misunderstood?"

Blaine looked down, shaking his head. "I wanted to get to know you. I'm not usually a klutz. This is so embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed." Kurt's voice had gone quiet. "I'm flattered."

Blaine's head whipped around. "You are?"

Kurt was stunned by the hopeful look he got. Blaine liked him. Blaine  _liked_ him. The gorgeous boy with the hair that made Kurt's fingers feel all tingly _actually liked him_. "We could talk," Kurt offered shakily. "Get to know each other, like you said. Um. Do you want to sit by me today?" he asked, half expecting laughter in reply over his falling for such an obvious joke.

"So much," Blaine admitted.

They traded shy smiles, then fished Blaine's things out of the water as the first group of kids showed up. Blaine pulled a chair close to the lifeguard station and they talked throughout Kurt's shift. He dutifully kept watch over the kids, while Blaine mostly watched him. Kurt even rubbed sunscreen on his back with a slightly unsteady hand. He didn't get to put sunscreen on Kurt, since he'd brought a shirt to wear once he was dry; dark blue this time, with white side panels and a half-zipper in front. Blaine had learned the day before that the lotion Kurt applied faithfully every forty-five minutes (Blaine timed him) was SPF-75. That, combined with the umbrella and shirt was how he protected his delicate, ivory skin.

They talked about their families. Blaine found out Kurt's last name, that he lived in Lima, was almost 18, and had an amazing dad. Kurt learned that Blaine was 18 and about to start his senior year, just like Kurt. He also learned that during the school year Blaine actually lived at the boarding school he attended, which was so weird because did kids really still go to boarding schools? But Blaine told him that it hadn't been very comfortable living at home after he came out and started getting bullied at public school. And his parents traveled a lot, anyway. The way Blaine said it sounded to Kurt as if he was trying to make excuses for them. Kurt already knew how lucky he was, but it made him sad that other kids didn't have such loving, accepting families as he did.

They talked about friends and school, both surprised to learn the other was in show choir. Kurt stared at him when that came up; until he remembered he had to watch the kids and looked away.

"Maybe I'll get to see your group perform sometime," Kurt surprised himself by saying.

Blaine stared. "I'd really like that," he said, transfixed because Kurt had just said he wanted to see him again. In the future. After they were back in school! His heart beat overtime.

When the afternoon lifeguard came to relieve Kurt, they gathered their things from the locker room and walked out together, exchanging phone numbers. Blaine had to go to work at the movie theater, but the next day was Kurt's day off, so they decided to meet for coffee. Kurt drove back to his aunt's house in a state of euphoria rivaled only by Blaine's.

* * *

Blaine was at the coffee shop early, waiting anxiously until he saw Kurt walk in. He wore a white, short sleeved, button-down shirt with white embroidery, black, knee length boots laced all the way up, and dove gray jeans that hugged his body like they were made for him. Blaine stood up so fast he knocked over his coffee and had to scramble to catch it before the whole cup spilled. The commotion caught Kurt's eye and he hid a smile, changing direction. Blaine momentarily forgot the dripping napkin in his hand when the other boy came toward him, picking up a few more napkins along the way.

They cleaned up the mess together, after which Kurt scooped up the wet napkins to toss in the trash and gave Blaine his very first rear view of Kurt in skinny jeans, an image that carved itself permanently into Blaine's memory. Luckily, Kurt had had the foresight to move Blaine's half-full cup out of harm's way before turning his back on him.

Kurt was quite pleased with the effect his outfit was having on Blaine. It was a miracle the other boy had ever noticed him in his work clothes. It was unfortunate he couldn't be really decked out, but it was the middle of summer and simply too hot for jackets and scarves, so he'd left them in Lima. Kurt could still hardly believe this was happening. The first out gay boy his age he'd met, and the guy was not only handsome and sweet, but interested in him! There'd been a lot of squealing and jumping up and down when he got home yesterday before he'd gone through every item of clothing he had, twice, trying to decide what to wear today. He ordered his coffee and went back to the table, noticing the way Blaine stared at his legs. He had waited a long time, put together countless outfits, hoping to meet a nice guy who would appreciate his efforts.

They spent every day together after that. Blaine would sit with him at the pool, and Kurt would go see a movie sometimes while Blaine was at work. Blaine couldn't stay with him, of course, but he'd walk him to his seat and use his break to walk him out to his car afterward. He introduced him to his friends, and Kurt learned that David worked at the theater, too, one evening when the teen came up to them and asked Blaine something about a poem.

On Blaine's night off, they went to dinner at a romantic little bistro, where Blaine only knocked over one salt shaker. Then after dinner, Blaine drove to the outskirts of Westerville to show him Dalton Academy. They parked outside the iron gates and Blaine pointed out the buildings, all named after various benefactors. The whole place looked very exclusive and steeped in tradition.

When his voice trailed off, Kurt turned to find Blaine gazing at him with that look he'd get right before he bumped into something. Kurt put his hand on the console between them, palm up, and Blaine joined their hands, twining their fingers. When Blaine looked back into his eyes, Kurt was finally certain he understood what that look meant.

"May I kiss you?" Blaine asked softly.

At Kurt's nod, they both leaned forward slowly. Kurt's eyes drifted shut, and Blaine closed the gap between them, his lips finally meeting the sweet, soft mouth that had filled his dreams. As his mouth moved tenderly over Kurt's, a warmth unfurled in Blaine's chest, seeping through his body; words like 'perfect' and 'right' finding their way into his scattered thoughts. He pressed closer, raising his free hand to Kurt's jaw, and letting the tip of his tongue graze across the other boy's lower lip, following the curve of his mouth, sucking gently on the fullness of his lips, every bit of flesh traced and tasted.

Kurt melted under Blaine's slow exploration. His hand curved around Blaine's nape, silky hair curling between his fingers. He'd thought about this, imagined their first kiss, his first kiss. Lying in bed the last few nights, with his eyes closed, the image of Blaine was there with him, the press of lips together so real he could almost feel it. But the reality was so much more than the feel of soft lips against his. It was every nerve ending, every inch of skin alive and trembling. His mouth opened slightly, inviting Blaine to take more, give more.

Quiet moans passed between them, Blaine's tongue searching, meeting Kurt's for the first time and making Blaine dizzy with the need to kiss him longer, deeper. He wasn't nervous like he'd expected. He didn't have to think about what to do. His tongue instinctively delved into Kurt's mouth. Kissing him came as naturally as breathing and left Blaine with no concept of time. He might have been kissing this boy his whole life, or would be kissing him the rest of his life, the moment stretching on forever.

When they parted, looking across the few inches that separated them, they saw their hands still clasped on the console, gripping each other. Their shallow breaths were the only sounds other than the pounding of their hearts. Blaine's eyes were heavy and his mind was clouded, but one thing was more clear than ever, and he saw the same knowledge in Kurt's face. "We only live a couple of hours apart," Blaine gave the answer to what they were both thinking.

Kurt nodded. "We can see each other on weekends." Their hands clenched tighter at the thought of separating at the end of summer. Everything changed in those few minutes, setting them on a new course.

They came together again, lips and tongues melding perfectly, fingertips outlining the shape of a cheekbone, the line of a brow, memorizing the texture of skin and hair, soft murmurs telling each other all they needed to know. The kisses gradually changed from deep and mind-numbing to shallow and quick, both so reluctant to part, they kept coming back together for another light touch of lips until, at last, they were forced to remember where they were and how late it was getting.

Blaine's eyes, when he could open them, settled on Kurt's mouth, and his tongue swiped unconsciously along his own lips, reliving the taste already. He knew his dreams would be filled with kissing, his mind was already there, and when he looked up, he saw Kurt staring at his mouth. They'd have other kisses, more opportunities to be together, but it was so hard to stop. It wasn't supposed to happen so fast. This craving should have taken time to build, but it didn't. It was right under the surface, waiting for the one person who would uncover it effortlessly. Kurt's gaze met his and those sweet lips curved in a smile that said he understood and shared Blaine's thoughts. It was comforting and beautiful, the knowledge that he wasn't alone anymore.

They held hands all the way home, darting glances at each other until they got to Kurt's aunt's house and spent another ten minutes kissing goodnight on the dark porch. His aunt was probably asleep. She'd never been the over-protective type, trusting Kurt to make his own decisions because he'd never given her any reason not to. He unlocked the door and gave a final, soft kiss to Blaine, who couldn't seem to make his feet move until Kurt was in the house.

Kurt peeked through the curtains, smiling at the sight of Blaine backing away slowly, like he didn't want to go. Kurt wasn't squealing this time, or hopping up and down. He hugged himself, then spread his arms wide and twirled slowly, dancing a ballet toward his room, where he got ready for bed with absolutely no memory of anything he did. He fell into a dream-filled sleep and awoke with the same smile he'd worn all through the night.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
